Getting harder and harder to
stay cheerful
(didn’t I already write this poem?)—
more numb than fearful.
(didn’t I already write this poem?)—
more numb than fearful.
But I don’t want to give you
an earful
of my problems, while rhyming on poem again.
Some rhymes are closer
of my problems, while rhyming on poem again.
Some rhymes are closer
than others when you're attached
to life’s umbilical
cord, singing the old refrain:
More fun than evil!
cord, singing the old refrain:
More fun than evil!
Recognizing that I’m sort of a
reptile,
sluggish when I’m not in the sun.
A reptile is at its most cheerful
sluggish when I’m not in the sun.
A reptile is at its most cheerful
lying in a warm
asphalt road bed, where motorcycle
wheels can rip the sin
right out of its less-numb, more-fearful
skin. “Let’s ride back and
cut the rattleswheels can rip the sin
right out of its less-numb, more-fearful
off of that one!”—
voice heard from the cheerful
tomb, bright and hopeful.
